


2:48 AM.

by minecrafters



Series: Ross and Oliver [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Smoking, those two tags describe oliver perfectly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 15:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15440256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minecrafters/pseuds/minecrafters
Summary: Oliver is called up to be a shoulder to lean on.





	2:48 AM.

**Author's Note:**

> writing practice based on a drawing ive done

Oliver sucked in air through his teeth, the mixture of a constant lingering tobacco taste and hot moisture from the car's heater leaving a weird flavor in his mouth. His eyes were flicking about the road facing him, working through an unpleasant sensation caused from squinting. It was dark. Even considering the fact that he had his headlights on, it didn't do much to help this predicament he was in. His car came up to once another red light. Oliver's back hit the seat, he watched the dim red light in mild frustration, drumming his fingers along the leather steering wheel.

"Straight for ten miles then left. Left...left...left..." Oliver muttered under his breath, breaking the stressed silence in the car.

He shot up in alert, his gaze finally catching what he was looking for. Left hand grasping for the gear while the other kept hold on the steering wheel, he clunked it into park. The car headlights illuminated a familiar red-headed...friend of his.

Ross was abandoned about twenty minutes from Oliver's flat.

Oliver's bleary eyes glanced at the dashboard clock. Digital numbers read 2:48 AM. He exited his car, kneeing the door shut as he looked over the roof of it. Ross was there, sitting at a bus stop. His head was in his hands, knees pulled up to his chest. Oliver choked up at the sight of him, his friend, like this. His sneakers that were tied haphazardly scraped across the asphalt onto the curb.

"I'm glad you called." He sat next to him, instantly regretting it though, as the feeling of the cold bench reminded Oliver of the temperature tonight. He turned his head to Ross, just slightly, and under his breath he asked, "Are you okay?"

Ross took a minute to respond. He was shaking, and seeing as he's wearing 3 layers, Oliver can guess it's not from the cold. Oliver took this as a chance to look at him, even though the faint streetlight still left everything dark. Ross' hair wasn't as full as it usually was. Looks like he hasn't taken a shower in a hot minute. As Oliver was looking at Ross closer, he realized he was crying. Concern flashed across the blond's face. He reached to set a comforting hand onto Ross' shoulder but stopped himself as he spoke up.

"Not really."

Oliver's stomach somersaults. "I can see that." He turned his head back forward, curling into himself more now due to the cold.

Ross breathes in deep from his nose, snot making a drawn out sniffling noise and stopped hiding his face. He stretched out his legs and slumped back into the hard wooden surface. Whether or not his face was tinged red from crying or from the cold was up for debate. His hands were now folded, held between the gap in his legs, desperately trying to warm them. Unruly curls covered part of his face, which looked apathetic as hell at the moment.

"They took it." Ross let out a long, long, shaky and unstable breath.

A pregnant pause.

"Who-"

"The fucking capitalistic cows working as tow-truck people, Ollie! They took it. They took my van...everything I own..." Ross' voice broke off into a sob and he squeezed his eyes shut, covering them with his elbow.

A painful twang reverberated through Oliver's skull. Only two weeks ago did Oliver find out about Ross being homeless, and only a week ago Ross said to him that he'll "Figure everything out." and "You don't have to worry mate!" Now Ross calls him in the middle of the night panicking, and now they're both out here on the street at three in the morning having...having this conversation. God, he needs a cigarette bad. He shuffled around a bit, reaching into his sweatpants' pocket for his pack and lighter.

Ross whimpered, "Don't even have enough to pay them up...p-probably going to get pawned off." At this point, he was talking himself into a spiral.

Oliver brought the bud of the cigarette to his lips, "May I ask what happened?"

Ross looked at him directly for the first time in five minutes. His green eyes were puffy and rimmed with red. Obvious now that it's from crying. Though somehow his face was more clean-shaven than Oliver's. His lips shook as he spoke. Oliver looked past him instead, detaching himself from the situation. He shouldn't even be looking at his lips.

"Nothin' interesting I just...just parked it. Illegally. Right here, while I was buying some groceries. Fucking took it." He spoke through gritted teeth.

Oliver hummed as he smoked, now noticing the small bag of groceries at the other man's feet, assumingly from the corner store not too far back. Speaking of illegal...Oliver looked to where his car was parked in a bus station. They should leave soon. He went to say that, but the slight movement of Ross' arm behind his back caught his attention. Ross shifted into something more comfortable, moving his arm to rest on the backing of the bench, behind Oliver. His tears started to dry, tiredness residing in his chest as he recovered. Oliver swallowed, watching Ross. If he moved his back a bit he could almost make them touch...

"Got a spare?" Ross gestured at the pack of Marlboro's that Oliver hasn't put away yet.

Oliver bit the inside of his cheek. The cigarette he was smoking was already half-gone. They we're only going to be here so long, he doesn't want to risk a ticket just to smoke at a shitty public transit bench.

"No," He put his pack of cigarettes away, back into the pocket of his sweatpants. "You can have this one, though."

Ross smiled warmly at Oliver offering his used cigarette, "Not afraid of my boy cooties?"

The corner of Oliver's mouth quirked up for a moment as his face flushed slightly at the comment. "The second this leaves my fingertips I'm not taking it back."

"Aw, we're not going to trade drags like two sexually-frustrated and curious teenage boys?"

"God, no."


End file.
